


Advanced Techniques in Propagation

by sleeperservice



Category: Original Work
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Magical Pregnancy, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-01-12 18:52:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18452543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeperservice/pseuds/sleeperservice
Summary: All Kirendi had wanted were a few more succulents, really. Nothing more than that. But when he ran into trouble, he went to the only person he knew with the understanding to raise them.





	Advanced Techniques in Propagation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StormyDaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormyDaze/gifts).



The knock at the door was quiet. Ailun ignored it. It was the one day of the week she wasn't supposed to be at the workshop and everyone knew not to come all the way out here to bother her. Even her sisters knew that. If it was an emergency, they would knock with the code. This was not the code.

Whoever was out there kept knocking, though, quietly but insistently, until it became a desperate pounding, like a heart beating at the door. They must have been desperate for her attention. She put her book down, got up from her chair, and went to the door. The knocking did not cease until she pulled the door open.

"Ailun Challay?" the man at her door asked. "This is the correct house, and we met at the plant swap last summer...." His thin, drawn face looked hopeful.

Ailun had indeed met this man at the succulent society's annual meeting and plant swap the previous year. He was hard to forget, being as tall and thin and pale as he was. Her first thought upon meeting him was that he was etiolated, seeking sun he never was able to get. His plants were fine, though. She remembered his plants before she could remember his name.

"Ah, yes, the jade plants," she finally said. "And a few rarer pieces as well." Those plants finally helped her remember his name. She should have remembered it right off. They had been corresponding for years before they had ever met. "Kirendi Lediren, is it not?"

"Yes, yes, I am," he said as he nodded with enthusiasm. "I'm sorry that I dropped in before writing you, but this is rather a serious matter that I couldn't trust to the mails. May I come in?"

Lediren was far more pushy than Ailun would have assumed from their correspondence. He was a professor of ancient literature at the university in the capital, so he must have had enough resolve to take that challenge on. Few men would; the life of the mind just wasn't meant for them, supposedly. But his letters had been timid and had only shown that resolve when he was discussing his plants.

Ailun opened the door to let him through. "I suppose, since you've come all this way here." Her gaze strayed to his belly, a protruding, incongruous mound that hadn't been there the previous summer.

He looked over at her. "I see you've already noticed. That's why I'm here," Lediren said as he entered her parlor.

Ailun motioned for him to sit down. "I had assumed you were here because of plants, not a personal matter, but there's no way succulents could have survived well in your bags. Unless you've brought cuttings, and even then I'm wary."

Lediren sank into her best chair. "I am here because of plants and I have brought you some cuttings in exchange for what I had hoped would be your assistance in this personal matter."

Ailun remained standing. "I'm not sure if I'm any help in matters unrelated to succulents or furniture building. We have been correspondents long enough that I'd thought you would have known that."

"It is precisely because we have been correspondents so long that I have come to you. I know you live alone, you speak of no lover, and your family is content to leave you in peace outside of work. And I also know your responses to some peculiar intellectual and esoteric lines of inquiry that are actively prohibited." He looked up at Ailun with a desperate glare in his eyes.

Ailun tried to remember what this could have been. It came to her suddenly. "The old botanical lore you were translating? It sounded interesting, as a puzzle to figure out how the ancients thought and worked, but that was it."

Lediren took a deep breath. "But you did not condemn me for even thinking about the material, unlike most, and you showed curiosity. I had only hoped that you would have understood."

Ailun did understand. It was a matter of forbidden magic, the lore of the ancients that few now could access and even fewer were tempted by. It had nearly destroyed the world once. Kirendi Lediren did not seem to her like a world-destroyer. His ambitions were small and green and good at storing water. "You used what you found, and something happened, didn't it."

"Yes. I'm pregnant."

Ailun blinked. "Hmm. Well. I'll get you some water. I've been a poor host."

She came back with the water. Going to get it had settled her thoughts a bit and put her next few questions in place.

Lediren gracefully took the glass from her hands and drank most of it in one gulp. "It was supposed to be for one of my succulents. As you can determine from my water consumption, I am not a succulent."

Ailun had finally sat down in the chair across from him. "No, you're not. And your propagations seemed to do well without that boost of outside help. Was it one of those that's notoriously hard to propagate?"

Lediren nodded. "Its pot, however, was too close to something else when I read the spell."

"Ah. One that's easier."

"Mother of thousands."

Ailun gave Lediren, and his belly, an appraising look. "Probably not thousands, I'd say."

"It's only been a month since it happened and it's already this big."

"Oh. Well, then. That's why you came to me. I'll find something to do with you while we see what comes of it."

* * *

Ailun heard the chatter coming from the workshop all the way to the office. At least the furniture and the unfinished wood didn't talk, unlike the apprentices and some of the master crafters. That was why Ailun loved plants so much, even their dead bits that were all around in the shop waiting to be made into something else.

She missed crafting the wood herself, but someone had been needed to run the business after her mother's death. Her older sisters had a hand for wood but no head for numbers. Ailun did, so she ran the shop that all four sisters owned in common. It was a pity that she didn't have a mouth for sales. However, her oldest sister's daughter did. And that was the way the workshop ran; craft, the keeping of tradition, and too many women trying not to get in the way of one another.

Ailun looked carefully at the ledger for that month. For all the people they had working there, the crafting was going slow and not enough finished product was going out. Too many nieces to train; most with no hand-sense or artistic sensibilities to make up for the lack of skill. The nephews were more promising but some of her sisters didn't see it that way. Ailun didn't see any harm in training them. They were only going to make furniture, not sell it or run the place. Their customers would never know. The boys were at least quieter than the squabbling girls. It was past time for Ailun to talk to her sisters about sending some of the girls on to try to apprentice elsewhere before it was too late. This trade wasn't doing her nieces, or the business, any good.

The noise had finally got to her. The numbers in the ledger were swimming away in her vision, along with any positive thoughts about the business, the workshop, or least of all any of the apprentices. It was best to take this work home before she found it impossible to work at all that day, or before her nieces popped their heads in the door to settle some silly dispute unrelated to the business. They were too old for that nonsense. Their fathers had indulged them too much at home, filling them with frivolity and bad habits. It was a good thing Ailun had never married. None of the men had ever been worthy of her time. If only they had been more like trees, steadfast and silent, but no.

Ailun gathered the ledger and some other documents and placed them in her bag. She hurried out the back door to the workshop. No one had noticed her leave; they were too busy either arguing or turning table legs. Her sisters and the other masters would have to sort out the arguing. Ailun was done. There would be some peace at home with her plants and the sunshine and the miraculously clean house.

It was a very good thing that her sisters still held to the agreement not to bother her at home. They would not have noticed how clean her house had become, nor would they have noticed the other occupant. Kirendi was far more talkative than she would have wanted out of a roommate, much less a husband, but at least when he talked his conversation was stimulating instead of dull. They did have a lot to talk about.

They first had talked mostly of plants, the one thing they knew they had in common. They moved on to talking about their work. Ailun had to admit that some of the things Kirendi talked about seemed to have no relevance to daily life, no matter how excited and joyous his face became when he described the verses he loved. He didn't discuss the forbidden lore that had sent him to her in the first place.

He was far more interested in Ailun's stories about the furniture in the house, how her mother and aunts and sisters and herself had crafted almost every stick of it; the woods used and the techniques used to shape them.

Kirendi was sitting in one of the kitchen chairs Ailun had made when she arrived home. He was nestled into the bowed back of the chair; his legs were splayed to make room for his large belly. He was breathing heavily.

"I am sorry," he said as he looked up, "I was so very tired and did not expect you home this early. I have not started cooking dinner, not even lunch, and I have not completed the dusting."

Ailun was surprised he did all the work he managed to complete, as heavily burdened as he was just four months into his unnatural pregnancy. He shouldn't feel guilty that he needed a rest. "It's fine. I didn't expect to be home this early myself, but all the noise was getting to me. I came home to work."

"Ah. I will not disturb you. Would you like a cup of tea while you work?"

Ailun could have used the tea but the last thing she wanted to do was give Kirendi another task in addition to the ones he insisted on doing. "Not today. I might spill it all over these ledgers and I would only have myself to blame."

Kirendi's shoulders relaxed. "Did you want me to interrupt you for dinner?"

"Yes, I would. I had lunch at the workshop." She hadn't, but that was one fewer thing Kirendi needed to be doing.

"I wish you productive, and quiet, work." He slowly raised himself out of the chair, rubbing his back as he stood.

Ailun sneaked a look back at him as she walked to her office. Kirendi was touching his belly as he dusted, a very peculiar smile on his face.

* * *

The cribs were finally finished. This had been a project Ailun had intended to create as a labor of love and a challenge of her craft, but time had run out on her. Poor Kiri's pregnancy was advancing at a supernatural rate and something had to be created quickly. Gone were her detailed spindles and carvings of plants and vines; here were unadorned dowels and straight lines. They were ready in time and with enough time spared that Ailun had made a birthing stool as well.

She felt guilty that she had been such bad company for Kiri while she was making furniture. She couldn't do it at the workshop, so she did it in her shed after work and on her days off, taking advantage of the long summer nights. Kiri was working hard too indoors, making baby clothes as rapidly as he could. They would be as ready as they could be, for whenever what was in Kiri's improbable womb was ready.

Ailun knocked on the jamb to Kiri's open door. "They're ready. The cribs. Would you like to see?"

Kiri startled awake. He had been sitting atop his bed reading a book but had fallen asleep somewhere along the way. "Ah, yes, Ailun? The cribs? Of course, just allow myself some time to rise. No, I do not need your assistance. It just takes a bit more than it used to...oh!"

"Oh? What is it?"

"The children are not in favor of the movement, and are making their displeasure known." He patted the side of his belly, which looked to be full-term at just six months, and winced.

"Kicking again?" Ailun frowned.

"They do it all the time, constantly, although lately a bit less so. Except for now; it seems they only wish to distress me when I really need to do something."

"You don't need to do as much as you have been. You need to relax. We don't know how long we have."

"Nobody ever knows, especially in this situation." Kiri sighed as he finally made it to his feet. "But let us see what you have planned for them."

Ailun followed his waddling figure to the extra bedroom. Kiri was so slow and deliberate in his movements now--he had to be--which gave Ailun fear for the days ahead.

Kiri's expression turned serious as he looked at the furnishings. "Are you sure two is enough? And what of that odd chair?"

"You are the one who said he thought it was only two. But the cribs are larger than normal, just in case, and could possibly hold four. And the stool is what you will need to sit on when you give birth. I've been with my sisters when they had their children, and you brought that book with you, so we should be as prepared as we will ever be."

He hesitated. "If things go wrong and...that is why I've told you nothing of the lore, of what I've studied, or anything. The crime was mine and has nothing to do with you, and as long as you are ignorant, you are safe. Burn our previous correspondence, and you will be protected."

Ailun nodded. "I know plants, and wood, and numbers, and not much else. I get what you mean, though."

"You do not give yourself, or your knowledge, enough credit. You are wise and compassionate." He looked at Ailun adoringly.

This was something she hadn't noticed before. She looked at Kiri with a new perspective. They really did suit each other. She had never thought of marriage much, possibly because all the local candidates had annoyed her, but if she had someone like Kiri it wouldn't be that bad. He was even attractive, if one liked angular and colorless. She wondered what he looked like when he wasn't full with child; she hadn't fixed the image of the man she had met at the succulent society meeting in her mind. She somewhat liked the way he looked with it.

"I give myself all the credit I deserve," she finally said. "And with that said...if things go well, would you wish to marry me? You can pretend to be a widow with children, marrying me for protection. I will adopt them and raise them as my own."

His eyes widened. "You do not need to do this to protect me. I can take care of myself; I will find a way."

"It's not to protect you, or only to protect you. I've grown to care for you. I don't want you missing from my life. You can't go back to what you were doing before; you burned that life when you left. The plants here would miss you too." She smiled.

"I...I think I care for you as well. I had never expected, or wanted, something like this, but it feels correct."

"It does, doesn't it? Would if feel correct if I kissed you?"

He nodded and Ailun came over to his side and kissed him slowly on the lips. She felt him draw closer, the curve of his belly fitting slightly between her waist and hip. She could feel a kick at the same time he groaned. She moved away from his face.

"Yes, it is correct," Kiri said. "We fit together, as if some strange power has made it so. Yes, Ailun, I will marry you and raise our children to be your heirs."

"If you only promise me this; if they show no feeling for the craft, you won't be angry if they are apprenticed in another trade, somewhere else? After what I've gone through with getting the nieces new placements this summer...."

"I will promise, because I wish to give you no complaints. And that is all you have been complaining about."

Ailun wanted to tell him that he hadn't given her any complaints since he had arrived, other than his imposition on her hospitality in the first place. It had worked out for the best, so far. "I know I've been complaining about them. What I would complain about, with you, is that you don't tell me you have any problems. You've been running yourself ragged for months. I appreciate your work, but you're going to have to cut it back a bit."

"I feel so grateful to you, Ailun. I have to make it up in some way."

Ailun kissed him again and put her hand on his belly. It felt firm under her hand, full of potential and excitement. "You'll make up for it someday soon, Kiri."

* * *

Kiri was awake when Ailun brought him his breakfast, which was unusual. He had been sleeping most of the time now; it wasn't like he was able to do much else but sleep and eat and read. He had pushed his quilt off, exposing his naked body to her. He had quit being shy about that around the point when he took to bed because it was too hard to move. Ailun could see every angry red stretch mark on his enormous belly. His enlarged chest glistened with sweat.

"Awake so soon?" she asked. "Is everything all right?"

Kiri smiled but the smile was full of pain. "I think I may be in labor. I have been feeling pains and this odd pulsing feeling throughout the night, and the pulses are coming shorter and shorter together."

"You could have called to wake me up, you know."

"You had such a long day at work and it was so small that I thought it was better to let you rest. But now you are awake, too, and I think it is time to get up and do my work." He pushed himself up in bed as much as he could.

"I'll go put this back in the kitchen and get the supplies. Don't move to the stool until I get back! I know what you'll try to do, and don't do it. If you fall down on the floor, I can't get you back up." Ailun was nervous. Kiri was usually obedient, but she knew that he had been anxious about the moment of birth and was eager to get it over with. The last two weeks, with him in bed nearly unable to move, had been horrible. He had been patient in bearing the pains and irritation in his wishes not to cause her any problems but that had only caused her more worry over him.

When she arrived back in the room, Ailun was happy to see that Kiri had obeyed her. He was sitting on the side of the bed, his feet touching the floor. She put the linens and tools on top of the dresser and came over to help him get up. "Slowly, now, just like you've been doing."

Kiri slowly walked over to the stool, one arm around Ailun supporting him and the other protectively curved over his belly. He sat down, slowly, and gripped the handrails as he groaned. "I feel even more odd now. Something is happening."

Ailun put a cloth under the chair and another one atop the bed; she placed the others, folded, next to the chair. "Well, good, because you're sitting in the right place for it to happen. You remember what I told you about my sisters and the breathing, and the stages we read about in the book, right?"

"Yes," Kiri said through his small cries of pain. "I also think when I feel more pain, to give me that rag for my mouth so I do not scream so loudly. You know nobody can know that I am here."

Ailun nodded and gave him the rag to grip until he was ready. "I'm just thankful that you timed this so well that it's happening on my day off."

"Oh, no," Kiri cried as fluid flowed out of him onto the cloth.

"That's normal, although I think it usually happens earlier. But nothing about this should really be happening, so we just have to work through it." Ailun was trying to remain calm.

"I'm working. I'm working. It just hurts so much."

"I know, I know, but you can do it. They're getting closer together, aren't they, the pains?"

"Yes, very close. There is this pressure, down there; I feel like I need to push something out."

"You do, Kiri. The baby. There you go, it's time to start pushing, do what you feel."

Kiri put the rag into his mouth. Ailun could hear a low rumble coming out of his throat, a prelude to the screams he was trying to suppress. He was doing so well; she thought she could never have done it.

"Do you mind if I take a closer look?" Ailun had to ask, even though he was naked and everything was on display. She had to get closer to see if there was any view of the baby's head.

Kiri did not remove the rag and nodded instead of speaking. Ailun took a look; she could see the top of the head.

"It's there and coming, Kiri. When you feel like pushing, push. This one's coming out." Ailun was nervous. She knew all the steps, but this was beyond her normal range of skills. She could tell by his variant range of muffled groans that Kiri was pushing as hard as he could, and the baby's head was coming out further and further. Once she could see both shoulders, she held onto the baby and pulled it as Kiri pushed and pushed. Eventually it was out, and she held it in her covered lap as she cut the umbilical cord. The little boy wailed; those were cries neither of them could prevent.

"It's a boy, Kiri. Long and pale like you." She rubbed him down and placed him onto the bed. The boy had a bit of a greenish tinge to his skin, but as he was breathing and yowling, that wasn't the problem. "Push the rest out, the afterbirth should come out. And then, I assume, the other child?"

There were tears rolling down Kiri's cheeks as he nodded. The afterbirth came out into the bucket Ailun had placed under him. She would bury them in the bed with the hens and chicks plants, later. She began her watch for the next head, which proceeded soon after, and then came another boy, much the same as the first. Kiri was still groaning and pushing as he held onto the stool's handrails.

"Do you feel like there is another one in there?" She knew that Kiri had been understating his pregnancy complaints but she hadn't realized it had gone so far as to understate the number of children. She had her suspicions but hadn't wanted them to be confirmed.

He nodded as he pushed. She looked and could see another head crowning, even more quickly than the second. It was a good thing she had those suspicions and had made those cribs double-sized. It also explained just why Kiri had made all those quantities of clothing. The third child, yet another boy, came out much easier than the others, and the afterbirth also made a quick exit. Kiri was still groaning and pushing, and she couldn't figure out why.

"Is there a fourth?" She glared at him, and he nodded through his tears. This fourth one was far more difficult than the others. The head took its time to make its appearance and Ailun was afraid that she would have to use her kitchen tongs to pull it out, or that it wouldn't be born, or that something else horrible would happen as Kiri strained to get it out of his body. Ailun couldn't bear to see this man she cared for going through so much pain. It was worse than seeing any of her sisters give birth; but they had only given birth one at a time and these children that Kiri had carried within him for seven months were large.

Kiri had spit the rag from his mouth and let out a wail, one that shook Ailun to the core. The baby's head was out but nothing else, and Ailun stuck her hands in to try to pull it out. Kiri was too tired to push and this last one was reluctant to come out. She pulled and it came out, yet another boy, and as she performed her tasks upon him she could see that all four boys were identical, long, pale, golden-haired, and green-tinged. They all bore an incredible resemblance to Kiri.

Kiri passed the afterbirth and shuddered. "There are no more," he whispered. "I had expected the third, and I am sorry not to have told you, but I did not expect the fourth."

"Did you want to hold them? Two at a time? Now or later?"

"Now. I want to see them." Ailun bundled them up and placed them into his arms. Kiri was exhausted but looked pleased in his post-birth haze.

"They're beautiful, aren't they? And so much alike...are they identical?" He smiled.

"Yes, they are. All four. All look like you."

"And all green? Well, well. I should have expected this from the spell I chanted and the plants that I used."

It hit Ailun at once. Succulents. Propagation. Four little identical shoots from the parent plant, identical to the parent. "Budding."

"Yes, and what lovely little propagations they are." Kiri looked at his sons with love. "And I will plant them here."


End file.
